Sexy Nurse Outfit
by Satan Abraham
Summary: Pearson is sick. Surprisingly, it's not Harkness that comes to cheer him up. Slight Davidson/Pearson. Oneshot. AU.


Pearson was sick.

He'd thought it was just his allergies at first, then wondered why, exactly, his pollen allergies were acting up mid-January. There wasn't a blade of grass to be seen outside. Then he'd decided that he just had a cold, and that there was nothing to be worried about there. It was just a cold. He'd gone through worse and still gone to school.

But when he woke up at three in the morning puking his guts out, he realized that maybe he was actually sick and should stay home from school. Even though there was a test in History. Damn it. He'd have to schedule a special time to make that up, because the History teacher he had sure as hell wouldn't let him do it as a take-home test.

After changing the sheets on his bed and throwing them along with his blankets and pillowcase in the washing machine, Pearson sunk down onto his fresh, clean bed and sighed. He'd just remembered he should probably grab a bucket in case he threw up again. He could always just camp out by the toilet - he did have a nice bathroom, all to himself, too - but he would much rather stay in bed, despite the risk of having to wash these sheets as well.

His little brother peered into the room. "Momma wants to know if you're OK," he said.

"I'm not going to school today," Pearson said. "Bring me a bucket, will you?"

"MOM! HE'S NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY! AND BRING HIM A BUCKET!" the little shit screamed, running off to play Lego Star Wars or something. It was Pearson's game. His parents had just decided that he was too old for it and had given it to the little monster they called his brother.

His mother appeared a few minutes later with the aforementioned ice cream bucket. "Oh, you do look bad," she said. "Do you want me to take work off today?"

"No," Pearson said.

"I'll bring you home a Gatorade," his mother promised, pushing the bucket into his hands. She paused at the door. "Do you want me to grab anything? A book? The TV remote?"

"Got the remote right here," Pearson said, lifting up the remote. His last birthday he'd gotten a TV in his room. Nothing good was ever on during the day, though. He probably wouldn't end up watching TV. "But if you could grab me Practical Voodoo..."

"You're a creepy kid," she said, grabbing the large tome off of his desk. "You do know that none of this is real, right?"

"Got it," Pearson said, smiling lazily. She rolled his eyes and headed out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

Pearson spent the morning reading, flipping through the channels, and sleeping. Around one he began to feel better again, and also incredibly starving, but he couldn't find the motivation to get up for some food. Besides, what if he puked it all up?

His cell phone buzzed and he unlocked it. A text. From Harkness, maybe?

No... he didn't have this number in his phone. He opened the text.

_hey_

_can i come in2 your house_

_davidson_

...Davidson?

Pearson was fairly certain he hadn't spoken two words to Davidson in his life. Why was he at Pearson's house?

_sure..._

He hit send, and a few minutes later, he heard someone open the front door and bound down the hallway to Pearson's room. The bright, handsome boy that was Davidson flung open the door and stepped into the room.

"Wow, you are sick!" he said. He was holding a large basket. "Not gonna lie, Voodoo-Boy, you look like shit."

"I know," Pearson sighed. "Why are you here?"

"Harkness heard that you were on your deathbed or something so he convinced us to pool our money for a sick basket for you or something. Weird kid. Kept saying that 'this was the exact kind of thing fangirls would write fluff about, so it must go in a book,'" Davidson set the basket down on Pearson's bedside table. "That bucket for what I think it is?"

"Yeah," Pearson said. "I haven't thrown up since three, though. In the morning, I mean."

"Then you can eat these Saltines!" Davidson said. He dug through the basket - Pearson saw DVDs, books, Gatorade... was that Practical Voodoo, Volume Two? - and eventually came up with a box of Saltines. "Here."

Twenty minutes later, Pearson was puking them up. Davidson looked on. He was very obviously very uncomfortable. "Uh," he said. "Do you need anything?"

Pearson shook his head, glanced at the Saltines left in the box, and threw up again. Davidson rubbed his back. He didn't seem to know what to do in this sort of situation.

"I'm..." Pearson threw up again. "Fine. Damn it, how many of those things did I eat?"

"You gobbled down an entire sleeve," Davidson said. "Do you, uh, want me to wash out the bucket?"

"I can do it," Pearson said, pushing down the blankets and swinging himself out of bed. His legs gave out and Davidson caught him, making sure the bucket didn't spill.

"I'll do it," Davidson said. "You get back in bed."

Pearson, too weak to do anything but comply, nodded and sunk back into bed. He wondered if he could reach Practical Voodoo, Volume Two from where he was. He'd read the first volume more times than he could count.

Needless to say, if someone ever got on Pearson's bad side, they would have the dark magic of voodoo to deal with.

Davidson came back, freshly cleaned bucket in his hand. "I had to use it too," he said. He looked more than a little grossed out. He handed the bucket back to Pearson and sat down on the bed. "So, uh. Voodoo."

"Why are you still here?" Pearson asked. Davidson looked a bit taken aback.

"Well. Um. You're sick, aren't you? And Harkness is busy tonight; he's got some writer's workshop or whatever to go to, so I figured I'd just keep you company 'till your family got home," he said, shrugging. "I know we've never really talked... or really acknowledged each other's existence... but I was the only one free, weirdly enough, and I'm going to do a damn fine job of being your nurse."

He paused.

"If you want I can get into a sexy nurse outfit. I brought one with me."

"_What_?" Pearson asked. Davidson grinned.

"Hey. Didn't know what type of kinks you had, and figured nobody can resist the sexy nurse. The skirt's the shortest thing I've seen on anything," Davidson said.

"But you're a _boy_."

"Does it really matter? Hot people are hot. And I'm one of the hot," Davidson dropped Practical Voodoo, Volume Two on Pearson's bed and bounced off. "I'll be right back. In the sexy nurse outfit."

"What- no-" Pearson's protests were unheard, and he buried himself in Practical Voodoo, Volume Two while trying to forget the mental image he currently had of Davidson in a very short skirt. He was sure that Davidson was just using this so-called 'sexy nurse outfit' as an excuse to get out of there.

Ten minutes later, Davidson, dressed in the sexy nurse outfit, stood at Pearson's doorway.

Pearson turned a very dark red.

"I- uh-" he stuttered. Davidson grinned.

He was right.

The skirt _was_ very short.

* * *

**hooray random pairings and random prompts**


End file.
